


Soft Shock

by Damalia (Achrya)



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: BDSM, BDSM Scene, Cock Cages, Dom/sub, Gags, Human Furniture, Kink, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Sensation Play, Sex Toys, Spanking, suspension play
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-16
Updated: 2016-06-01
Packaged: 2018-06-08 19:15:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6870073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Achrya/pseuds/Damalia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“I think…pain. Humiliation and submission, maybe?” There was still humor in the other man’s voice but there was something else that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. His gaze sharpened and he stared at Jean hard, as if looking long enough could let him read his thoughts. “Yeah. I think you’d like getting on your knees and using your mouth to worship someone’s boots.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p>A story about two (occasionally stupid) boys, a BDSM shop, a lot of kink, and some pesky intrusive emotions. And sex.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tell Me Your Sins

**Author's Note:**

  * For [OverMyFreckledBody](https://archiveofourown.org/users/OverMyFreckledBody/gifts).



> This is going to be a graphic BDSM themed story, with all manner of kink (mainstream, less mainstream, strange and gross, and occasionally even failed.) There will be scenes with other couples, as observed by Jean and/or Marco but I'll warn about that stuff in advance as well as keep the tags updated and such. 
> 
> For example: There's Annie/Reiner/Bertholdt and Hitch/Marlowe in this chapter, but nothing really graphic. Also all sorts of sex toys (not used except when they are), people as furniture, talk of wax play, bondage, spanking and pegging.

Jean was, in his opinion, pretty open minded. There was a lot of shit out there he didn’t get and something he thought were downright dysfunctional and harmful when he heard about them but he wasn’t about to get in someone’s face about it or anything if they weren’t asking for his opinion. He was firmly in the ‘if it doesn't involve me, it's not my business’ lane when it came to other people’s sex life. He'd had his own problems with his parents when he'd come out in high school and the last thing he wanted was to make someone else feel as shitty as he'd sometimes felt then.

So he absolutely wasn't judging Hitch or any of the people roaming around The Basement, an ‘upscale’ speciality sex shop in downtown Trost. At least that was how Hitch, with her tendency towards eager oversharing, had described it on the ride over. Jean hadn't asked what was so special or upscale about the place but that hadn't stopped Hitch’s chatter. She'd found the place online about six months back, when she and Marlowe had decided to try out some new things, and there was actually a very nice sort of ‘community’. She'd made some friends and learned tons and there was some sort of meetup twice a month and displays on the weeks opposite the meetups and-

He hadn't really been following, focusing instead on following his GPS directions. He'd taken a second to think about how ‘meetings’ for a sex store seeming weird (what did they do, talk about the strongest batteries on the market?) but mostly he'd been thinking about work and how he couldn't wait for Hitch’s car to be repaired so he could stop carpooling with her.

The Basement wasn’t what he expected from the outside; it was a basic looking two-story building with darkly tinted windows, set between some sort of boutique and a dentist’s office. There were restaurants, kitschy second hand and antique shops, and a few cafes on the same block. If Hitch hadn't caught his elbow and stopped him he would have walked right past it. There was no neon or otherwise cheesy sign on the outside, no flashing lights or promises of XXX movies anywhere. There was nothing at all to indicate it was anything more than another shop on a nicer looking block.

They even had to ring a bell to get inside. Once buzzed in they walked through a small receptionist area where a petite blond man was sitting behind the desk. There were some plush looking chairs linking the wall in front of the large picture windows; while darkly tinted on the outside the inside allowed for a nice view of the street. There were stairs off to the side, leading up.

“Upstairs is the office,” Hitch said as they walked past the desk. The man smiled at them and waved. “For custom orders and stuff, but I'm doing a pickup so we can just head back.”

‘Back’ was through an archway and into a pretty standard looking ‘store’ area. It was brightly lit and a little nicer than he'd expected with walls painted cream and a polished hardwood floor.

It was split into two distinct areas. The first had products arranged on long white table and glass shelving or hanging from hooks built into the wall; it was very clean looking. Nothing was cramped, in lurid looking boxes, or otherwise looked ‘shady’.

The other side was open and full of...furniture. He saw three different beds, one wood framed with a padded headboard and the other two made of dark polished metal, a few chairs, some weird curved things, a table, and something that looked like a vaulting horse and a bench had a baby. (Jean had enjoyed a gymnastics phase in elementary and middle school and, so far, all that work had earned him was some handy flexibility and the ability to identify vaulting horses.) There were other people, a dozen or so, roaming around. Some were at the tables, looking over the products, and others were looking over the furniture.

Some of the people were dressed in all black and, while there were no name tags or indicators that they were staff, Jean got that feeling anyway.

“There's a downstairs too, where they keep the more ‘obvious’ stuff,” Hitch said as Jean looked around. “Oh! There's Krista! I'm going to ask her about something so...just look around if you want. Maybe you'll see something you like.”

Jean’s eyes fell onto one of the wall displays, where what looked like paddles were hanging. “I doubt it.”

She winked at him then bounced off in the direction of a tiny blond woman, dressed in a simple black dress, who was walking the floor. Jean watched as the blond turned then broke into a beaming smile at the sight of Hitch. They hugged briefly and then Hitch was being tugged towards a door at the back of the room.

Which left him well and truly alone.

He shrugged slightly then headed for one of the tables that was stacked artfully with books. It looked safe enough, compared to the wall of paddles and...were those whip? Maybe? One, coiled up and placed on a place of prominence on the wall, looked like the Indiana Jones sort of whip but there were other things he wasn't so sure about. Some had multiple braided tails, others loops or strips of leather, a few seemed to be made of hair and, he realized with a cringe, there were a few with what looked like lengths of chain dangling from their handles. They were carefully hung on the wall from clear hooks with small cards near the handle, their various ‘ends’ allowed to dangle freely.

The paddles he'd glanced over were on the next stretch of wall; some of these were on shelves, propped up on their narrow sides to allow the wider parts of them to face outwards, and others were hanging from loops. These too had an almost dizzyingly wide selection; different sizes, shapes, and materials were just the beginning. Some were smooth and solid, other had holes of various number and size, others had ridges or bumps or what looked like spikes with slightly blunted ends and, in one corner of the display, letters were carved deep into the surfaces.

The letters were all backwards so it took him a second to get them right in his brain. _Slut. Whore. Pet. Kitten. Puppy._ He blushed as the purpose of the words on the paddles, to end up on someone's skin when they were hit, sank in. He stared a moment longer, brain tripping over the thought of someone wanting any of those words smacked in their ass, or wherever one went about leaving the impression of humiliating words onto a person.

He moved on quickly, stomach flipping oddly as a wave of embarrassment washed over him.

Next was display of dildos, vibrators, and butt plugs in everything from silicon to glass in sizes ranging from ‘small’ to ‘Jesus Christ, where could that possibly fit?’ One particularly large buttplug, easily wider that his fist, had him wincing in sympathy.

After that was a collection of things he couldn't quite figure out the relation between. Thin chains ending in what looked like metal clamps, the teeth all looking sharp and painful. Jars and bottles of oils with labels proudly proclaiming various scents, warming, cooling, tingling, edible and so forth. Strange metal things that were basically small spiked wheels on handles, some small feather dusters, blindfolds, and candles, some tall and thin while others were shorter and fat in all sorts of colors.

He stopped at the candle display, all arranged in small pyramids by type and brand it looked like. They sold candles here? Next to their dildos and whips? That seemed way too normal a thing for a place like this.

“Hello.” Jean jumped in alarm, and maybe a little bit of guilt, as he turned to find a man with tan skin, an easy smile, freckles, dark hair and dark eyes standing behind him.

He'd been so engrossed in what he was looking at that he hadn't even noticed someone sneaking up on him. Or not sneaking. Probably not sneaking. Hell, he hadn't even realized he’d totally bypassed the books and was so close to all of this...stuff he could have easily reached out and touched something. Which he absolutely didn't want to do and he wasn't even sure what he was doing looking at this kind of thing and now this guy probably thought he was actually some kind of freak who was into paddles and chains and whips and shit.

He felt like he'd been caught watching porn by his mother or something. Only instead of porn it was kink gear and instead of his mom it was a...actually really attractive guy in a really tight black t-shirt. He wasn't sure which situation was more horrifying but since this one was happening currently he was leaning very strongly in it’s favor.

He only seemed to run into very cute guys when he was doing something embarrassing like...waiting tables or working on his nude figures strictly for the purpose of improving his art skills or was out somewhere while his mother very loudly asked why he hadn’t brought anyone home to meet his parents in three years.   

Or in a sex shop. Because that was just his fucking luck.

“I’m Marco.” The guy offered, seemingly oblivious to the fact Jean was silently wondering why his life was so awful. Or maybe he was just a good actor because he didn’t look like he was quietly judging Jean either. He let out a breath he hadn’t fully realized he was holding and attempted a smile.

“Jean.”

After all they were both in the same shop right? So. This was probably not as embarrassing as he thought maybe? Or, his brain supplied, it meant this guy was actually into all of this stuff. That...that would have been a downer.

But he was so normal looking!

“Well, Jean, I’m a fan of this brand personally.” A black glass container was picked up and, when the lid was taken off, he saw there was a candle inside. He could smell something sweet, like fruit, but he couldn't place what it was off the top of his head.

Was this guy really about to talk to him about scented candles?

“It's a massage oil candle. Its nice because it’s made from all natural soy and coconut oils, so it has a lower melting point than our candles usually have. Because of that It stings just enough to... _heighten_ things, but not really linger or shock.” The man twisted the word just enough to be suggestive and playful. Jean noticed it but was much too busy stuck on the fact that these were for using on people to enjoy it nearly as much as he wanted to.

He’d poured melted candle wax on himself exactly once when he’d been a curious kid and he didn’t recall it being an experience he wanted to repeat. In fact he remembered it hurting an actual fuck ton and his skin being bright red when he’d finally gotten the wax off. How was that something people actually wanted to do as a sex thing?

He tried to picture someone, and cursed his brain for inserting Marco and his playful grin as the person holding the candle, dripping wax on him...but no. He remembered how terrible it had been. It didn’t make sense, who the hell could like what basically amounted to being burned?

“And then body heat keeps it liquid so it can be rubbed into the skin as an oil. I always suggest them for people who are just starting out with wax play, to help the ease into things and because it makes for a nice way to ‘wind down’ after, if that’s what you’re looking for. It’s soy and coconut oil based, with vitamin e and shea butter added, and it’s all natural and fair trade, which are things we take very seriously here.”

That candle was set down and another, taller, thinner, and not in a container, candle was picked up.

“This brand is nice as well. All unscented and they melt at a slightly higher temperature, so there’s more sting to it, but the shape allows for more precise dripping if you’re feeling more...artistic. And it comes in 7 colors.” The man looked at Jean again as he set that candle back into it’s rightful spot. “Did you have a preference or were you just curious?”

Jean blinked dumbly, the realization that this was a salesperson (now that he was really looking there were black jeans to go with the ridiculously tight shirt) who was trying to sale something to him taking a second to sink in. Once it had, however, he shook his head frantically and put his hands up as if to physically stop anything else from being said.

“No. Noooo. I'm not curio- this is not for me.” He made a gesture his hand to encompass everything. “I'm just here with a friend, not to buy anything. This isn’t really my scene.”

The man nodded. “I saw you with Hitch, right? You aren't the boyfriend?”

How often was Hitch here that they knew her on sight and by name? And knew about Marlowe? What was she...no. He didn’t want to know. He really didn't. It was better for his ability to look his friends in the eye if he knew as little as possible about their sex lives and how it may have included...any of this. He was going to either forget all about this or tell himself that they were just into a little bondage or something, for his own peace of mind. Hitch and Marlowe were a little weird sometimes but he didn’t think they were the sort of get off on hurting each other or anything.

And he lived down the hall from them and saw them everyday so he would have noticed something like that, right? Then again he hadn’t known Hitch was coming out for some sort of weird sex shop meetups twice a month for half a year so (and had bought _cuffs,_ which was kind of funny, maybe, because Marlowe was a cop) who knew what he actually knew about his friends.

He really didn’t want to follow this train of thought any further.

“I'm just the housemate.” He insisted, eyes darting towards the door Hitch had gone through. He hoped she would be done and able to save him from what was possibly the most embarrassed he'd ever been in front of a cute guy.

A cute guy who he really really wanted to understand that he wasn’t Hitch’s boyfriend. Or anyone’s boyfriend. He’d sworn of dating and sex in his senior year of college, determined to get the grades he’d let slip the year before back up, and three and half years later he was still kind of doing that. But less willingly and more as a symptom of doing nothing but working and playing video games all the time.

“Too bad.” Marco said as his eyes roamed over Jean from top to bottom and back again in what could only be described as very careful checking out. “You’d probably look good in those cuffs she bought last month.”

Jean sputtered, too startled to say anything back right away. He’d heard some pretty bold come ons in his life, and had thrown out a few in his time (it had even worked once or twice) but nothing like that.

And okay, he wasn’t into being tied up or anything but that didn’t stop his brain from conjuring up an image of it anyway. Him, somewhere dark, unable to move while this guy, this very handsome guy, loomed over and telling him how good he looked in those cuffs before-

Nope! He was not having some weird kinky fantasy in the middle of the weird kinky store. What the hell was he thinking anyway? That should have been an instant ‘no’, because he did not want to be in cuffs or anything like that, not a go ahead for his overactive imagination to kick into high gear.

He’d been in this place all of fifteen minutes and clearly that was too damn long. It was melting his brain or...something.

“I'm not really into...you know. Bondage. Or hurting people or being hurt or...any of that.” He said finally.

He liked his sex to be as painless as possible at all times actually. And he wasn't judging, he really wasn’t, but he really didn't get this kind of place, or the things in it, at all. He'd barely even started looking around but some of the stuff he was seeing looked like dressed up torture devices.

The man blinked at him then smiled brightly. “Ah. You’re one of those. I’ll just leave you to it then.”

Jean knew mockery when he heard it, being the expert he was in both that and sarcasm, and Marco was very much mocking him. He scowled, embarrassment completely forgotten. “What’s that supposed to mean? One of what?”

Marco, who had looked to every intention of letting the conversation end and walking away from him, turned back to him and shrugged. “One of those people who narrows ‘all of this’ down to just some people being hurt and other people doing the hurting and then paints everyone with the ‘freak’ brush.”

Jean gritted his teeth, annoyed because what Marco was saying was sort of true and, mostly, at the superior tone the other man was using. As if Jean had the totally wrong idea and Marco was sad that he was so confused or something. Which he wasn’t; there weren’t exactly a lot of ways to interpret a place selling whips and paddles with SLUT written on the side, were there?

And fine, he was now officially being judgemental, and that was wrong. Consenting adults and all of that...but seriously. People who wanted to whip other people was pretty fucked up with or without his judgement. And anyone who thought they actually liked being whipped or having hot wax poured on them or called names or...whatever probably needed a little therapy.

Or a lot.

“Are you about to tell me I’ve got the wrong idea about that stuff?” He pointed towards the paddles. Marco followed his finger then snorted.

“Maybe? It depends on your ideas, doesn’t it? Did you want to tell me about them or…?” His voice, which Jean couldn’t help but notice was deep and kind of nice, almost soothing, gained that playful note again.

In different circumstances Jean would have thought he was being flirted with. In these circumstances however he was pretty sure he was still being mocked. His displeasure must have shown on his face because Marco sighed loudly before speaking again.

“I know not everything here is about pain or hurting someone though, not that there is anything wrong with enjoying those aspects of things safely, and I know you shouldn’t just assume things about something you don’t know anything about. I know that for a lot of people BDSM is about trust and support at the core of everything else and that just because you like having someone agree to let you do painful things to them doesn’t mean you really enjoy hurting people outside of that.”

Jean bristled under the continued use of *that* tone; it was like he was being talked down to or scolded. He hated it when his parents did it and there was no way he was going to just take it from some guy he didn’t know. Especially not while he was being told that there was more to people using what looked like torture devices or shit out of a horror movie on each other to get off was something he didn’t understand.

He rolled his eyes. “Trust and support? Sure, because what says ‘trust me’ more than pouring hot wax on someone?”

Marco opened his mouth then shut it, expression shifting to something unreadable as his eyes narrowed. It was only a few seconds but there was something to the sharp gaze and the way the other man’s full mouth pressed into a thin line as he tilted his head slightly to the side that made Jean feel very...strange.

Exposed.

“You’re kind of mouthy, aren’t you? And stubborn.”

Jean wasn’t at all sure how to respond to that. He was sort of mouthy and stubborn, or very according to everyone who’d ever spent more ten minutes in his company, but what did that have to with anything?

“I doubt anything I say to you is going to change your mind.” Marco said, face smoothing into something thoughtful.

“Jean!” Hitch shouted; he glanced over his shoulder to see her hurrying towards him with dark blue bag with ‘The Basement’ written on it’s side in gold in her hand. “I’m all done. You ready to go or did you see something you liked?”

He started to tell her that he was more than ready to get the hell out of here but Marco, that same strange thoughtful expression in place, spoke first.

“You should come to our demonstration on Saturday.”

“What!” Hitch’s voice went up a few painful octaves as she grabbed his arm with her free hand in a vice like grip that had him wincing. “You’re inviting _Jean_ to the show? Seriously?”

“What show?”

Marco smirked before producing what looked like a business card from his back pocket. “Hitch can tell you all about it.”

She snatched the card from Marco’s hand before Jean could even think to do so, eyes wide with barely contained glee. “Yeah I can. Krista and Ymir and Armin and Eren are supposed to be on the floor, right?”

“Yup. I think suspension play is the main stage.”

“Suspension play?”

Hitch’s grip tightened on him. “We’ll be there.”

“Great.” Marco’s eyes slide over to him. “Maybe you’ll learn something.”

Just like he knew mockery and sarcasm Jean knew when he was being challenged. He also, coincidentally, hated being challenged just as much as he hated being mocked. He managed to keep a lid on the need to snap back by biting the inside of his cheek until Hitch had all but dragged him out of the store, already babbling excitedly about the show.

“I’m not coming back here Hitch.”

“What?” She stopped in her tracks and tilted her head to meet his eyes. “Why not? Do you even realize what just happened? We got invited to one of their display shows, where they show the serious equipment in action. Only really loyal customers get invited to that!”

Was that supposed to convince him? Because it didn’t. The last thing he wanted was to see what constituted ‘serious’ for that place or watch people using it. He couldn’t begin to fathom why anyone would want to watch something like that at all.

“I’ve been going to meetings and I’ve bought all sorts of stuff and I’ve never been invited.” She continued, eyes bright. “And it’s supposed to be amazing! They even do demonstrations based on audience suggestion and there’s a whole advice panel at the end for tips and safety concerns.”

Safety concerns? That seems a little ironic.

“So come without me.”

She gasped as if he’d said something truly scandalous. “I can’t! Marco invited you so I can’t show up without _you_. That’s just tacky.”

“I’m not going.”

\---

“I can’t believe you convinced me to go to this.” Jean grumbled as he pulled his blazer a little tighter around him. Hitch, dressed in a slinky green dress with her hair carefully curled and pinned up to fit the ‘semi-formal’ dress code, beamed at him over her shoulder. Marlowe, far more sympathetic to Jean’s plight, sighed quietly.

“A deal is a deal.” She chirped. “I’ll work your next four weekends without complaint so you have to do this for me with no bitching.”

The thing was...Jean was weak. And when Hitch had offered to work his next four Saturday afternoon shifts, thus freeing him up to raid in Wings of Freedom, the MMO he dedicated entirely too much time to, without missing any nights for a while he’d agreed. In the moment he’d figured it would be no big deal. He would just find a dark corner to sit in while Hitch and Marlowe did their thing, and then they’d go. But now that they were practically there he was nervous, practically shaking in his dress shoes, and doubting the wisdom of the deal. He was no longer so sure he was getting the better end of things.

He felt like he’d made a mistake.

Maybe it was just that he’d spent a little time over the past week looking a little deeper into BDSM and, more specifically, Suspension Play since that seemed to be the big thing for the night. He was...sort of torn as a result. There was a lot of stuff about how BDSM was terrible and abusive and how so-called Doms preyed on ‘weak’ and ‘damaged’ subs in order to take advantage and use them for various sick purposes. What he’d seen of suspension, which had frankly looked like scenes out of some kind of crazy medieval torture, certainly fit with all of that.

But there was also a lot of things that stood against that point of view and instead insisted that it was about trust (and there was that word again) and pleasure, though not always the sexual kind. And certainly there was pain but supposedly it wasn’t like getting punched in the nose or being abused or beaten against one's will. It was something different, or so everything he’d read had claimed. Nothing had really done a good job of explaining what the difference was but all had been very adamant about how enjoying pain wasn’t a sign of damage or past trauma or dysfunction.

Jean was skeptical but, then again, there was Hitch and Marlowe who he was mostly sure were normal and healthy people from healthy backgrounds (he’d known Hitch’s family since middle school and they were great people and Marlowe’s parents were a pediatric heart surgeon and a firefighter, so basically actual saints. Which really explained so much about Marlowe.) He’d tentatively broached the subject but somewhere between Hitch’s glassy eyed ode to the faces Marlowe made when she spanked him and her admitting her custom item had been a strap on harness he’d basically fled the room.

He was willing to be accepting of whatever, they were his closest friends after all, but too much damn information was still too much information.

Way too much.

The point was that now he was unsure about everything and with that feeling came nervousness.

When Hitch, who was practically bouncing up and down in excitement, rang the bell he expected to be buzzed in like last time. Instead the door opened to show a very large blond man, well over six-feet judging by how even Marlowe had to look up at him, in a dark suit. Pale blue eyes took them in, Hitch in her dress, Marlowe in his suit, and Jean in his slacks, blazer, and the tie Hitch had insisted he wear, then he held a hand out.

No one moved for a moment but then Hitch, in a hurried flurry, fished out the card they’d been given from her clutch and handed it over. The man glanced at it then his eyebrows went up in obvious surprise. Jean half expected to be turned away (and, seriously, what the fuck was all this anyway? What the hell kind of security? He felt like he was outside of some kind of shady club or something.) but instead the man stepped aside and motioned for them to come in.

There were other people in the lobby, all dressed as nicely if not nicer than them, milling around and talking to each other  or on their phones. A few were holding bags; they were all black fabric with ‘The Basement’ stitched on the side in gold. Clearly something like this called for nicer everything, including shopping bags.

The person behind the counter this time had reddish-brown hair and glasses, but they were busy pointing at items in what looked like a catalogue to someone.  

“Everything is already going, you just missed the intro. The top floor is business as usual, aside from Annie and her subs. Downstairs is a demonstration on some of our suspension equipment, the double bars I think, and a tutorial in denial play.” The man said as he pulled the door shut behind them. “I’m Mike and that’s Hanji at the desk, if you decide to buy something one of us will check you out here. Other employees will be wandering the floor so if you need anything or want Annie or Armin to demonstrate something ask one of them. Do not interrupt or attempt to interact with the scenes. There’s an open bar but any rude or unacceptable behavior is cause for removal and a ban from The Basement and our sister store, The Garrison.”

They all nodded their understanding; Jean felt even more uneasy once the man waved them on towards the main area of the store. This was clearly a really serious event and, while Hitch had mentioned as much before it hadn’t really sunk in until now, he wasn’t sure if was a great idea for him to be involved in it.

What if he said or did something that got Hitch banned? He was positive she’d make him regret something like that for the rest of his life, however shortened it would be by the time she was done with him.

Well whatever. There was a bar right? He’d just take a seat and stick to playing muted Candy Crush all night. There was no way he could get in trouble like that right? It was ‘business as usual’ after all, so it wasn’t like he was going to see anything that was going to freak him out.

Or so he thought right until they stepped onto the sales floor. Almost everything was exactly the same, save a bar and sitting area that had been set up in one of the corners.

Well that and the pretty blond woman with her hair slicked back into a bun sitting more or less in the middle room on a plush looking red chair. She was wearing a black blouse and calf length skirt that was white with a black floral pattern on it. Her shoes were shiny and black with heels that looked like they could punch a hole through just about anything. Her feet were up, crossed at the ankle, and resting on a man like he was...well, a foot rest.

The man was a well built blond wearing only a pair of black shorts that barely qualified as shorts, down on his hands and knees with his head down so his chin was touching his chest and his eyes were trained on the floor. He had what looked like a horse bit in his mouth and a collar, complete with a leash, around his neck.

Kneeling next to the woman was another man, a brunette with russet skin and green eyes, who was holding a glass tray with a single champagne flute sitting in the middle. This one also in nothing but shorts and wearing a gag but with the addition of metal clamps on his nipples. He too was collared and leashed. The woman was holding the ends of both leashes in one of her hands; her other hand was resting on the brunette’s head, petting his hair lazily.

People were milling around them and, in some cases watching with rapt fascination, but all were staying outside of the fancy rug that they were situated on.

“Christ.” Jean muttered.

“Right?” Hitch said, tone reverent. “I want to be her.”

Marlowe sighed but, when Jean glanced at him, he was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And super special love for [ Overmyfreckledbody](http://overmyfreckledbody.tumblr.com/) who has agreed to share the blame for some of the weird shit that happens eventually. 
> 
> Also I'm [ Here](http://acharyadiako.tumblr.com//) if you want to see this filthy story be developed. ...personally I wouldn't.


	2. Take Me Down (Into Your Paradise)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner and a show? ...or just a show and awkward boners.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the wait. Eremin week ate up all my time/creativity. But here we are. 
> 
> Pairings seen in this chapter: Reiner/Annie (with a riding crop, collar, and leash.) Ymir/Krista(Historia) (With suspension, rope bondage, and nipple play, and Armin/Eren (With cock cages, implied sounding, restraint, orgasm denial, and overstimulation,) Exhibitionism, voyeurism, and praise kink. It's all from Jean's PoV so...it's kinda funky? He doesn't know all the things and, hopefully, the chapter reflects that.

The Basement was much busier than it had been when Jean and Hitch had come earlier in the week. Instead of a dozen or so people milling around it was bustling, people filling the floor and a low roar of chatter filling the large open space. They were standing around the bar, sitting at tables, moving around the products, and of course crowding around the display in the center of the room, but not stepping onto the rug that seemed to be defining the ‘show’ limits.

It was very...odd. All of these people, dressed up in their suits and dresses, looking well put together and elegant, roaming around what was basically a warehouse full of sex toys, talking excitedly about the demonstrations that night. It was surreal almost, like something that would be more at place at a nice restaurant or a...play. These things weren’t supposed to go together, were they?

He knew, of course, that the image his mind conjured of some old shady perverted dude with a young naive or helpless girl at his side wasn’t exactly the right image. Hitch and Marlowe proved that fact well enough and his brief wandering of the internet said there was more to it as well...and yet that was kind of what he’d expected, not well dressed, smiling, and seemingly easy going adults of all ages, near equally split between male and female. Some of whom were decently attractive and normal looking and didn’t look at all desperate or weird. Somehow he thought he might have been more comfortable if it had been a bunch of old gross perverts.

Instead he was decidedly uncomfortable and seriously considering getting a drink it hopes it would make him feel less like he had some big spotlight on him, pointing him out as someone who didn’t belong.

Jean didn’t consider himself the sort of person who got freaked out in large crowds or anything like that. He’d worked his way through college as a waiter so dealing with people had been his literal job. He was, when tip money was at stake, pretty good with people. And yet he was uncomfortable, wanting nothing more than to shrink in on himself until he was out of sight.

Not that anyone was paying attention to him. Hitch had dragged Marlowe off, leaving him to his own devices like they’d agreed on and it wasn’t as if he was a particularly interesting sight when there was literally a woman a few meters away using two grown men as furniture.

A sight he was trying to avoid looking at because it was just...he didn’t know what it was. Weird, for starters. Confusing. He supposed he could see where she, the woman, would get something out of it but he didn't understand what the collared, near naked men were getting out of it aside from very sore knees. People were talking to the woman and she was grinning and laughing; another employee even came by to switch out her drink.

But no one was paying attention to the men. It was like they weren't there or were unworthy of more than casual glances. Weren't they embarrassed to be seen like that by so many people and to be treated like they were...well furniture? Just something there to be used and maybe looked at but not acknowledged or treated like a person at all. They stayed in their position, heads bowed and mouths gagged, a collar around their necks like they were dogs (and every so often the woman would pat their heads or rub down their sides like they were well behaved animals too), and never so much as looked up or made a noise, all in front of dozens of people.

How was that not humiliating?

Hell, Jean wasn't even involved but he felt his face growing warm and stomach rolling every time his eyes happened to dart over there. Which happened far more than he would have liked but how was he supposed to not look?! He was only human after all and it was like a trainwreck. He knew he shouldn't have been looking, that he should focus on Candy Crush harder because he was doing terrible, but his eyes kept being drawn towards the scene. He looked away quickly every time he caught himself, silently berating himself, but soon enough his eyes would slide back over.

It was during one of these furtive peeks that he saw the woman was on her feet and talking to a large blond man. She nodded then held out her hand to have something placed in it. Jean recognized it as one of the items he'd seen before, on the whips and paddle walls; it was a long thin stick, a little thicker at the bottom to form a handle and then tapering up. There was a loop at the handle end, which the woman slipped her hand through before gripping the handle, and a red, roughly heart shaped bit of what looked like leather on the other end.

The noise in the room seemed to be sucked away all at once and Jean could see heads swiveling in her direction. A few people at the bar with him got up and started wandering closer, all looking interested in whatever was about to happen next. Jean stayed put, telling himself to get back to his game and leave these people to _their_ games.

She flicked her wrist and the stick sliced through the air. Another flick, this time aimed at her other arm, and the end came down on the back of her free hand with a loud snap. Jean jumped, nearly falling off of his stool in alarm, then swallowed nervously as he felt his face heat up again. No one seemed to have noticed his reaction, thankfully, already entranced by the woman. She held up her hand, surveying the way her porcelain like skin was already reddening where she’d hit herself.

She nodded, seemingly satisfied, and reached to pick up one of the leashes she’d let fall.

“This is our Red Heart Riding Crop.” The blond man said, voice ringing out over the floor. “It’s 23 inches long with a shaft made of high grade aluminum which keeps it light-weight, allows for flexibility and speed without a risk of breaking or snapping,” Here the woman bent the crop a little to show the flexibility. “and gives it a unique look for people tired of the same old black leather look. The tip is two separate pieces of leather, which gives it that extra snap.  Annie will demo the crop on...”

He let it hang, turning to face to woman who tugged on the leash in her hand. It was the large blond who moved, crawling closer to the chair under her lead.

“Reiner tonight.” The man said as he turned back to regard the bulk of the crowd. “ The crop allows for light taps as well as slaps with a bit more sting, depending on the wielder’s ability, but isn’t nearly as intimidating as some of our items can be. Our Red Heart line, which fills in the niche between beginner and intermediate play, is on display in it’s entirety on one of our tables on this floor.”  

As he spoke Annie guided the man up to stand bent over the chair she’d been sitting on, his hands flat on the seat portion. His back was tensed, muscles bunched up tightly under his skin, and his head was up and turned towards Annie. She set the crop against his back, dragging it up along his spine slowly, and smiled. Reiner seemed to relax all at once, head tipping down, eyes fluttering closed, and body losing the tension.

She moved from one side of the chair to the other, dragging the crop along shoulders, back down his spine and over his ass to the backs of his thighs. Up again, this time drifting up his inner thighs, tapping against the bulge in his shorts, very much on display with how his legs were spread and his ass was thrust back, and then sweeping down the other side.

Jean licked his lips then glanced down at his phone, staring fixedly at the darkened screen. It was suddenly much warmer in the room then he remembered it being.

A loud _Snap_ made his heart leap in his chest. He looked up, eyes rounding as Annie lifted her crop up from the fleshy part of Reiner’s body just below the swell of his ass then brought it down again in nearly the same spot, so fast the crop seemed to blur as it moved. Another snap, louder than that first, and Reiner’s body jerked hard and there was a muffled grunt but he otherwise stayed put.

Annie shifted and brought the crop down again, on the opposite thigh, in three rapid, but not nearly as loud, swings. A pause as she touched the crop against the places she’d smacked, dragging it along the abused skin, before shifting her weight again. Another flurry of blows, seemingly with more power if the sharp noises noise was anything to gauge by, were slapped against Reiner’s covered ass then back down to his thigh; Jean stopped counting how many, lost his concept of how long it was taking, in favor of staring open mouthed.

Holy shit this was really...really.

The bare skin on Reiner’s thighs was starting to turn red, heart shaped outlines rising up. Annie stopped and reached out to pressed her free hand to where she’d hit him. Her fingers rubbed the reddened flesh as the crop was tapped against Reiner’s leg lightly.

A low groan came from Reiner and Jean could see his face was bright red, his eyes were open wide, and drool was dripping past the gag in his mouth. Jean squirmed in his seat, a strange uneasy heat settling hard in his stomach, then made himself look away as the crop flicked down again, this time against Reiner’s inner thigh.

He couldn’t begin to imagine how that felt. The sound was awful, loud slaps that seemed to echo in the large room, and he pictured it as a terrible stinging pain. Not that Jean had ever been hit with anything like, and so he had no real frame of reference, that but the noise alone and on what was probably really sensitive skin...it had to be bad, didn’t it?

And he was what, just watching it happen?

Was this seriously happening? How was this happening? How was he seeing this?! This was...this was something being beaten and he, and all these other people, were just watching. What the hell?

This wasn’t okay. Someone needed to do-

“I’m not sure you’re old enough for this show.” Was breathed against his ear. He yelped, jerking away from the warm air tickling his skin, then whipped his head around to glare at a smirking Marco. The bartender, a woman with close cut blond hair and light blue eyes, snorted softly.

Great. He was witness to...whatever was going on and he was being laughed at by strangers. His night was going well.

Another spine tingling slap rang out and he started to turn, as if the noise was begging for his attention and he was unable to deny the pull, but a light tap against his knee from Marco stopped him.

“Don’t look so worried.”

Jean licked his lips, jumping at another snap, then shook his head. This guy, who’d told him it wasn’t about hurting people, was now telling him to not worry as someone was literally getting hurt a few meters from him.

“C’mon.” A hand wrapped around his wrist and hauled him to his feet. He started to pull back but thought better of it when a husky, but muffled, groan warbled through the air.

Actually going somewhere else sounded like a great idea.

Marco lead him around the bar and towards a doorway with a dark curtain stretched over it. It took them past the scene that was still playing out, now with an impishly grinning Annie tapping the crop against and then rub over (significantly larger) bulge in Reiner’s shorts. The last thing Jean saw before being tugged past the curtain was the blond man’s head tipped back, another strained muffled noise forcing its way past the gag in his mouth.

The other side of the curtain revealed a well lit stairwell, with concrete stairs and walls painted a deep royal blue.

“I didn't expect you to actually show up. I'm glad you did though; I was kind of...rude last time and I want to apologize.” Marco said, words touched with amusement and something else Jean couldn't quite put his finger on, as he lead him down the stairs. “Even though you were watching pretty hard, considering this isn't your scene.”

Jean bristled at the laughter in the other man’s tone. “Hitch made me come. And I-how am I supposed to not watch something like that? Its...you don't think that's weird? That she was beating him and he was fine with it?”

He didn't know why he was even asking that question, Marco was clearly into all of this craziness. That was why he worked on a place like this right? And was clearly not at all bothered by what had been going on up there, so of course he wouldn't think it was weird. He was in the wrong place to expect a normal reaction.

He really did want to just brush it aside and file it under ‘consenting adults’ and ‘none of his business’ but what he'd been watching was just so...he didn't know what to think. He felt nervous, jittery, and still far too warm.

Marco hummed softly, glancing back at him over his shoulder. “I have it on good authority that Reiner is more than fine with what Annie was doing.”

Yeah, okay, he could see that. Jean didn’t voice his question about how anyone could be ‘more than fine’ with being hit; Reiner’s face certainly hadn't made it seem like he was having a bad time. The opposite, really, if Jean was going to go purely by physical reaction and the sounds he'd been making. And Reiner was certainly capable of getting up and just walking away if he'd wanted to. At least he'd looked capable and Jean couldn't imagine anyone trying to stop him.

“And those novelty crops aren't so bad compared to some of the stuff we have here.” He added.

Jean frowned slightly at that, weighing the words carefully. “You've...been hit with those things?”

“I've probably tried out just about everything here.” Marco shrugged dismissively as he said it; Jean's mind flashed to all the things upstairs and reeled at the implication. All of that…? “I don't use anything on someone I'm playing with I don't have first hand knowledge of.”

Well. That was nice...he guessed. 

They hit the bottom of the stairs and Jean looked around. To the right there was a door with an ‘employees only’ sign on it. To the left there was another curtain, just as heavy and thick as the one upstairs. He could hear voices, low enough that he couldn't make put words, coming from behind it. It hit him all at once that he'd left some weird guy who was into who only knew what in a sex shop...club...bondage...place drag him off to he didn't even know where for what.

He flushed, stomach flipping nervously “Where-”

“Bodt.” A small dark haired man with tired looking eyes poked his head out from behind the certain. He spared a second to look at Jean then returned his full focus back to Marco. “Come narrate for Armin out before you leave. He needs to focus on Eren.”

It wasn't, it seemed, an optional sort of the thing because the man was ducking back behind the curtain before getting a response. Marco rolled his eyes then let go if Jean’s wrist; he hadn't even realize he was still being held onto until that moment.

“You might want to stay here.” Marco said, lips twitching up into a half smile, before following after the man. The curtain stayed open behind him long enough for Jean to see more people standing in two clumps on either side of a walkway. It flowed back into place and Jean was left standing at the bottom of the stairs and looking around, feeling kind of stupid and self-conscious. It was one thing to be tucked back at the bar, hoping not to be noticed, but hanging around outside a curtain waiting for someone to...whatever

He didn't even know. Marco had told him to come with him and he'd just gone along in order to get away from what was going on upstairs. But where had Marco been taking him? And for what? Should he wait? Go back upstairs and…

A chill ran up his spine. No, maybe not that.

Well maybe-

“You're Marco’s _friend_ right?” He looked up to see the bartender standing two steps up from him, head cocked to the side. “Where’d he go?”

Jean, startled by the question and the suggestion he was Marco's friend, pointed at the curtain. She clucked her tongue then finished descending the stairs.

“That boy. It's no wonder he’s still single if he's leaving cute little things like you just standing around.” She hooked an arm through one of his and, seemingly oblivious to his sputtering, pulled him into the next room.

“Um, wait, maybe I should…”

A few steps into the room and Jean forgot what he was going to say. It was about half of the size of the room upstairs, cut in half by a walk way and then further split into smaller compartments by half walls. 

Right by the entrance there were a lot of people, triple what was upstairs, standing on either side of the walkway, all eagerly looking into the first two compartments.

It was the one on the left that made Jean fall silent. There was what looked like a set of money bars, minutes the middle bars, in dull gray metal. Hanging from the bars was a woman.

And hanging didn't really feel like it was doing the whole...thing, justice. She was nude and intricately bound up in dark purple rope. It curled her neck in doubled lengths, then flowed down between her breasts then around them to under her armpits. They came back over top of her breasts then back over her arms which were bent behind her body, binding them from the elbows up. More rope went around her hips and legs, binding her calves to her thighs so her feet were pressed against her butt. There was something almost pretty about all the long stretches of rope and knots and how they pressed into the woman’s pale skin.

She was suspended from the metal frame by more ropes, a good five feet off the ground. They were triple lengths looped into the ropes binding her arms together then into the ones around her waist and ankle before being tied tightly to the metal frame.

There was a tall woman with reddish-brown hair pulled back into a tight ponytail, wearing slacks and a vest with seemingly nothing under it, walking standing next to the bound woman, rubbing a hand along her side with one hand while she eyed what looked like clamps in her other hand.

The suspended woman’s head was bowed, letting long blond hair cascade forward and hide her face, but a tap on the shoulder from the woman at her side made her life her head. Jean realized, breath leaving him in one surprised whoosh, that it was the saleswoman who'd helped Hitch the other day. Krista?

Her face was flushed pink and shiny with sweat, eyes wet and mouth parted around heavy pants. Makeup was smeared over her lips, like someone had attempted to rub it away, and faint black lines streaked her face. Still there was no doubt it was the same angelic looking woman from the other day.

The other woman leaned into her to press a kiss to the corner of her mouth then smoothed a hand down to where her petite breasts were hanging between the ropes.

Jean wasn't exactly sure what was going to happen but he found himself holding his breath as the taller woman first flicked then pulled at Krista’s nipples, drawing a shaken cry from the small woman. One of the clamps was transferred over to the other hand and pressed open so the wicked looking teeth separated.

When it came down and closed on her nipple Krista’s body jumped as she hissed, just loud enough to be heard as the crowd inhaled seemingly as one unit.

“There he is!”

Jean was yanked to the other side of the walkway unceremoniously and just managed to keep his feet under him. He looked away, forced to pay attention as he was pulled through the assembled crowd and further from the first compartment.

He was tempted to keep his eyes on the ground, brain already straining to grasp what he was seeing, but he didn't quit manage it. He ended up, somehow, at the front of the pack around the second area.

In the center of a makeshift room there was a triangular metal frame with a man, about Jean's height and size with dark brown hair and tan skin, not exactly hanging from it. His eyes were covered by a black mask, his wrists were bound together by what looked like electrical tape, and then connected to a chain that was connected to the metal frame on the other end. He was stretched out, forced up into his toes, with no apparent slack in the chain at all.

He was naked save a...cage looking thing around his dick and what might have been a wire that was taped to his inner thigh and seemed to be leading to something...inside of him. His lips were swollen and tear tracks were staining his face. A small blond man (maybe the one who'd been working the desk on Jean's first trip? He wasn't sure.) was behind the man, petting the bound man while pressing kisses to the back of his neck and shoulders. The bound man made a soft hiccuping nose prompting the blond to stand up on his toes and kiss him quickly.

A voice told Jean to get free and get the hell back upstairs because things were getting way way out of control but he felt like he was glued to the spot.

The blond stepped away from his partner then motioned to the side. Marco, who Jean hadn't noticed until then, stepped out of the crowd and handed something to the other man. Jean, in spite of himself, looked to see what it was. Another silver cage, this one opened and boasting a thin clear tube with a metal tip connected the the top on the inside.

“This,” Marco said as the blond man dropped to his knees in front of his partner. “Is a combination cock cage and sound. Right now Eren is wearing a basic cage but Armin is going to change it out to demo the new model.”

The bound man groaned then sighed; the blond huffed out a soft laugh and rubbed at his partners flank.

“You’re doing so good for me Eren.” He cooed quietly; Jean couldn't see his face each but he could _hear_ the smile in his words. “So good. You think you can keep it together while I take this off?”

The man sort of danced around on his toes for a moment, shaking and swaying on his chain, then nodded quickly before pressing his face against his arm.

“Now, for any newcomers,” Marco said. “Eren has a egg-shaped prostate vibrator fully inserted at the moment. This particular version takes two standard watch batteries and has a remote with five powerful settings. Armin also used one of our Red Heart Line ticklers as well as a vibrating wand, externally, earlier on.”

The first cage came off and was carefully set aside. The bound man sucked in a breath, bouncing on his toes, and whimpered when his cock was freed. He was hard, dripping in sticky streams precum from the purpling head.

“Armin. Armin please!”

“Shh.” The blond wrapped a hand around his cock and pumped it with slow, almost lazy strokes. “You can do this, I know you can. Show everyone what a good boy you can be for me.”

It wasn't the broken off sob that gave way to a hoarse ‘okay’ that had a wave of stomach twisting heat run through him but the way the blond cooed more praise and pressed a kiss to the inside of his partner's thigh. Jean shuffled his feet, suddenly anxious and more aware of his own body than what he was going. He was feeling hot again but this time there was now mistaking it for anything except arousal. He shuffled around again, eyes darting around.

Why the fuck was this getting to him? The guy was nice looking enough, yeah, and he appreciated nudity as much as the next person but this was just so...he didn't know what it was.

On the upside at least he wasn't getting hard watching someone get beat but he wasn't sure what kind of moral high ground this actually gave him, if any. He felt like he was obvious as he tried to reach down and adjust himself and that everyone close to him would notice and, while he knew logically no one was paying him any mind, his heart started beating faster. He wiped sweaty palms down the front of his pants and licked his lips.

The blond shifted, allowing a better angle for the crowd and  held the cage carefully while moving the plastic tube, now smeared with lube, so the metal tip was pressed against the head of his partner’s cock, right against the slit.

"With something like this you'll want to be sure everything is cleaned and sterilized before use and that ample lubricant is used to ensure an easier time with insertion." Marco's voice droned on.  

Jean averted his eyes when it hit him what was about to happen, but the hitched breathing and whimpering moans mixed with more sweet praise and encouragement was as bad as watching. His thoughts were swirling around, so loud in his own head that he didn't hear anything else around him. He couldn't begin to calm the frantic half formed thoughts in his head or puzzle out why he was reacting like he was (was he suddenly into dudes being tied up and crying? His knee jerk reaction was a strong ‘no’.)  And yet.

How had he ended up here?

“Hey.” He blinked back to awareness to find Marco standing on front of him. “Nanaba, did you bring him in here? He looks like he's about to have a heart attack.”

The woman, still holding on to his arm, flashed a toothy smile. “He looked lost out there all alone. You shouldn't leave your friends out there like that Marco, someone might try to snap them up.”

Jean looked at her in alarm. Marco snorted then very pointedly pulled Jean away from her. She pouted but let him go easily. “I'm sure Mike would just love that.”

“He might.” She winked playfully. “It's been a while since we brought someone home to play with.”

Jean sent Marco a look that he hoped said ‘I do not want to go home to be played with by anyone’ very clearly. Marco rolled his eyes.

“ **Bye** Nanaba. Tell Levi I clocked out.”

She nodded and wiggled her fingers at them as Marco, now with a very firm grip on his arm, practically drug him back out into the stairwell.

It was, Jean found, slightly easier to breathe once they were on the other side of the curtain. A tightness he hadn't noticed had coiled around his lungs started to release and his hands, balled into fists at his side, flexed open.

“Um. So. That's our more...graphic demonstration room.” Marco said after a strained moment of silence. “Obviously.”

Jean couldn't even find it in him to say something sarcastic back. Instead he nodded then pointed to the stairs. “I should...uh. go. And find Hitch. And go.”

He could call her from outside of this place. Or from the car. He had the keys right? Or...no. Marlowe had driven. Well he could take a bus or something. Or a taxi or he just needed to not be here. Because here was very strange a day was making him feel strange and was fucking with his head.

He needed a bottle of vodka and to not think about the fact he was half hard and very confused.

Marco frowned at him then, glancing away, shrugged. “Or I could take you to get something to eat? There's a 24-hour place around the corner.”

Jean flinched then looked down at where Marco was still holding his arm, fingers tight around his bicep. Panic bubbled up in his chest; how did he get out of this without it being weird?

More weird? Could it get more weird than someone asking him out in a place like this? ...he was asking him out right?

Marco followed his gaze and, eyebrows going up, let him go. “Sorry. And, for the record, I'm really just asking you to get food not come back to my sex dungeon.” Jean paled and shifted backwards. “...I don't actually have a sex dungeon.”

Jean wasn't sure if that was supposed to be comforting or what but it wasn't. In fact it just confused him more.

“Why would you want to? With me? I'm not…” He trailed off and flapped a hand, trying to encompass everything around them. “This.”

“So? Again: just food. You’re cute, I'm done with work, and I'm hungry. Or,” Marco smiled wryly. “I could just give you my number and if you're less freaked out later you can call me?”

Jean thought it over for exactly half a second then nodded. Not because he wanted Marco's number but because it seemed like the easiest way to extract himself from the...everything.

Marco put his number into his phone quickly then, with a smile and a wave, vanished through the Employees Only door. Leaving Jean to hurry up the stairs back to the top level and walk, very fast, out of the building and into the cool night air.

It was even easier to breathe out there.


End file.
